My best friend is an idiot crushing on a jerk. Instead of eating peanut butter cups at his house on Halloween, I'm throwing rocks at Skurdulka's house. That's how it started. I actually lay eyes on a shapeshifting cryptid and I'm not going to live to tell about it. Great. If I can get Skurdulka to let me leave (alive), I'll have a story to tell. Maybe the cryptid's not so bad. We might even have some things in common; no one gets what the f#ck we are and we're both sick of people.

The kids that nobody wants? We go to Skurdulka's House. The cryptid might now be "Ari"--and basically my goddamn helicopter parent--but they're still a cryptid. And if local bigots, school principles, psycho parents, or dickhead bullies mess with us? Yeah, the kind and quiet Ari isn't afraid to bring out the fang-baring Skurdulka again.

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